'It's us,' said Phyllis, 'please. We don't want to pry into your beautiful house like Jane's brother Alf when he asked you for the drink of water, only we've made up a Christmas-tree, and may we stand it in your yard and light it--the candles, I mean?' The door opened a little further, and a face looked out--the face, of course, of Sir Christopher. All the house that showed through the crack of the door didn't, as Mabel said afterwards, show at all, because it was pitch-dark. 'I don't quite understand,' said Sir Christopher gently. Phyllis was a little surprised to find that the voice was what she called a gentleman's voice. 'We--you were so kind carrying Mab across the road that water-carty day when it thundered----' 'Oh, it's you, is it?' he said. 'Yes, it's us; and they wouldn't let us help with the school tree, and so we made one of our own and then we wanted someone to see it. And we thought of you, because you don't seem to have many friends, and we thought---- But we'll take it home again if you don't care about it.' She stopped, just on the right side of tears. 'There's a glass bird with a spun-lovely tail,' said Mabel persuasively, 'and sweets and fishes, and a crocodile that goes waggle-waddle when you wind him up.' 'My dears,' said Sir Christopher, and cleared his throat. 'My dears,' he began again, and again he stopped. 'We'll go away if--if you'd rather,' said Phyllis, and sniffed miserably. 'No, no!' he said; 'no, no--I was only thinking. I never thought--would you like to bring the tree into the house? It's just the sort of thing my little girl always liked.' 'Oh yes,' said Phyllis; 'we'll go and fetch it now.' He closed the door gently. The children flew back to Guy and the tree. 'Oh, Guy! we've to take the tree inside the house! And he's got a little girl--at least, he says so. Come on, quick. We'd better carry it. The barrow's so heavy, and it does interfere so!' They carried the pot between them. It was very heavy, and they had to put it down and rest several times. But at last they dumped it down in the dark on the front-door step of the castle, and breathed deep breaths of fatigue, relief, and excitement. The door opened, and opened wide, and this time light streamed from within. 'Welcome!' said Sir Christopher. 'Come in. Let me help to lift it. What a beautiful tree!' 'It is rather decent, isn't it?' said Guy dispassionately. Sir Christopher raised the pot, carried it in, and the door was shut. The children found themselves in a small square hall. A winding staircase of iron corkscrewed upwards in one corner. The hall was lighted only by two candles. The old gentleman led the way through a door on the right into a round room with white walls. 'We're inside the tower now,' said Guy. 'Yes,' said their host, 'this is part of the tower.'